


journey, tectonic

by nautilics



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Scientists, Gen, Underwater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-25 16:04:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7539076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nautilics/pseuds/nautilics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Date Tech Institute for Aquatic Research consists of a motley crew of oceanographers, underwater robotics specialists — and a Moniwa Kaname with a lot on his plate. They're also located on the seafloor.</p><p>Things, somehow, go well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	journey, tectonic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sciophyte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciophyte/gifts).



> Dear sciophyte! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this assortment of underwater shenanigans! I was really excited to be able to write Datekou, especially the four that you specified - happy summer hols!
> 
> Warnings: This fic is set in a lab on the seafloor, with a lot of underwater & deep sea imagery. Please be aware if you have any qualms about that! There are no mishaps of the aquatic sort though, just of the Datekou sort.

Even though there's no official meal time, it's an unspoken tradition that they all gather in the mess room for dinner every Sunday, at approximately 6pm.

There are a couple of reasons. The first is that Sunday is the one day of the week that they all take a day off. What everyone does with this day off varies – Aone, for example, often goes out swimming, mingling with the local marine life for fun rather than for research. Others – like Onagawa – take the chance to catch up on their favourite TV shows. Moniwa sometimes questions this use of their state of the art, high speed wifi, but Onagawa insists that literally living on the ocean floor is no excuse to miss out on the newest episode of his drama.

The point is – on Sunday they are all, therefore, less likely to be holed up in the labs for more consecutive hours than is strictly healthy by the time dinner rolls around.

(‘Less likely’, Moniwa says – he’s still had to enlist Aone's help to physically drag Nametsu out from the robotics lab more than once.)

The second reason for this shared mealtime is this: one Sunday, several weeks into his tenure in the Date Tech Institute for Aquatic Research, Sasaya took one look at their hodgepodge of leftovers and abandoned meals in the fridge (including at least six cup noodles in identical, half-eaten states, because Koganegawa had remembered something he'd left unfinished halfway through eating, and Sakunami was kind enough to place it in the fridge when he rushed off), and proceeded to work some sort of culinary magic to create a veritable feast.

Since then, Sasaya has become a regular fixture in the kitchens on Sunday afternoons, clearing out the fridge in preparation for the new delivery of fresh supplies on Monday, and the promise of a delicious cooked meal is enough to lure everyone else into the mess room.

Moniwa is one of the last to enter the room this week, and most of the team are already idling around. Somebody has pushed the two tables together to form one long enough to be able to seat everyone comfortably, and one end of it is occupied by a lively card game, where Kamasaki appears to be losing badly at cards against Futakuchi and some of the younger lab technicians.

He notes, with some concern, the large number of bottle caps (used in place of poker chips) by Futakuchi's elbow, and the correspondingly low amount next to Kamasaki – Kamasaki would be paying off this debt with sour gummies for weeks. Koganegawa doesn't seem to be faring much better, though Sakunami at least looks like he has enough caps to be able to bargain for some of his favourite snacks in their next delivery. Fukiage apparently had the wisdom to not join in, and is shaking his head while observing from the side.

The other side of the table has Onagawa and Obara bent over something on Obara's phone, sharing a pair of earphones. Moniwa decides not to ask, especially when Onagawa nearly falls off his chair from shaking of laughter.

One side of the mess room has an impressive floor-length window in place of a wall. The glass is kept pristine on the inside by the efforts of their weekly cleaning roster, providing a clear view of the thriving reef life just outside. Standing in front of it, Moniwa often feels like he could take another step forward, and stroll out onto the ocean floor.

Perched in bean bags strewn by the window are Nametsu and Aone. Nametsu looks cosy, swallowed almost entirely by her bean bag as she reads something on her e-reader, while Aone looks comically giant on his own purple bag. He's staring out the window into the open ocean when Moniwa approaches, watching a pair of butterflyfish loiter around the glass, but he turns to duck a quick bow in greeting at Moniwa.

Nametsu waves without looking up from whatever she's reading. "Good evening, Moniwa-san! Sasaya-san says food will be ready in a few minutes."

"Thanks, Nametsu." Moniwa grabs an empty bean bag, pulling it closer to the window to join Aone in watching the fish.

The Date Tech Institute for Aquatic Research is an underwater habitat, oceanography research and robotics engineering facility. It’s uniquely located on the seafloor, a short boat ride away from Iriomote-jima in the Okinawa region and is also surrounded by some of the world’s healthiest coral reefs. It’s a rich site for a research facility, thriving with hundreds of varieties of coral and fish, with a wealth of information waiting to be discovered.

From a research point of view, the seafloor location has numerous advantages. It gives scientists unprecedented access to the marine life of the ocean without the need to decompress and return to the surface after every dive. Instead, they live, work and relax in the seafloor labs, spending months at a time performing experiments to learn more about the countless secrets of the ocean.

From a more mundane point of view, living on the seafloor also means that they're regularly treated to stunning views of the reef life and local residents, a fact that Moniwa is reminded of every time he passes the wall of glass in the mess room.

The light of the water, today a calming azure blue from the clear weather up above on the surface, casts a soft light into the room. A turtle swims by with unhurried motions as a school of yellowfin goatfish flow around it. Seagrass sways to-and-fro in the invisible current, and a solitary guard crab picks its way across the reef, returning to its home amongst the bright pink branches of a large cauliflower coral.

Without the noise, it would be a peaceful scene.

"Oh my, I win again? I think you must have left your brain cells back in your lab coat, Kamasaki-san!" Futakuchi's voice floats over across the room, lilting, and Kamasaki roars in frustration. There's a slam of hands against the table and the sound of bottle caps scattering across the floor, followed by Futakuchi's laugh and Koganegawa's sad whine. Moniwa looks forlornly out at the butterflyfish.

Sasaya chooses that moment to announce his appearance, knocking loudly at the entryway to the kitchen. "Dinner's ready," he says, and everyone turns towards him in anticipation. He crosses his arms. "But I'm not carrying it all out by myself."

After they've cleared the table, carried out the heaping plates, and started tucking into the food with only minimal mess, Moniwa stands up, pulls at the edge of one sleeve, and clears his throat.

"Everyone, I have some news.”

“Why do I have a bad feeling,” says Sasaya.

Moniwa ignores him. “Oiwake-san called today to tell us that our open visitors’ day has been rescheduled from next month to next Friday," he says. "Apparently there was some mix-up with the events team and…” He shakes his head. “Well, anyway, there'll be media, members of the public, and plenty of people we want to impress. I know it’s late notice, but everyone will need to prepare their best projects for display."

He's met with a chorus of groans. Open days are a mixed bag, as are any events geared towards building publicity for their labs. While they need the public eye to keep interest and build opportunities for funding, it also means an influx of unknown persons in their carefully maintained workspace. There have been incidents in the past, which Moniwa prefers not to think about.

“We’re halfway through a major overhaul of the robot’s systems and external frame,” Kamasaki protests. “It’s not meant to be finished for another week and a half. How are we s’posed to show that?”

“Can’t you,” Moniwa waves a hand vaguely, “I don’t know, make a smaller version?”

Nametsu, as the second-most senior researcher in the robotics department after Kamasaki, gives him a despairing look. “Moniwa-san, with all due respect, that’s not how it works at all.”

“We could do a rough prototype, but it would be really buggy,” adds Obara. “I’m not sure how good that’ll look if we don’t have enough time to test.”

“Oh!” Nametsu’s eyes light up. “We’ve still got some of the older models that I haven’t finished deconstructing yet. We’d have to rewire a few parts, and recode some elements but–”

“–it sounds perfect, thank you Nametsu.” Moniwa hurries to interject before he loses her and Obara to technical talk that flies over his head. “Anyone who’s been here for the last few open days will know how it works. The visitors will be coming out from Iriomote-jima by boat and scuba diving down with one of the local tourist guides. We’ll be taking each group on short tours of the labs, and then outside to observe the local reef before they go back up.”

“I’ll take them for the swim,” Onagawa, surprisingly, raises his hand. He punctuates his declaration with a loud slurp of his noodles.

“Thank you, Onagawa.” Onagawa salutes. “Everyone else, have a think about it.” Moniwa bites his lip, and then decides to reveal his trump card. He places both of his hands on the table and leans forward, lowering his voice. “Oiwake-san hinted that there would be someone from the JSPS coming down. I know a few of us have some grant applications in process, and it would definitely help to impress them.”

He gets several interested looks at that. The JSPS – short for the Japan Society for the Promotion of Science – is the main source of their lab’s funding and, in fact, the majority of funding for scientists in Japan.

His eyes flash. “Rumour has it that they’ve been poking around at the Seijou labs, too. We’re not going to lose to them, are we?”

“Those flash bastards,” Kamasaki grumbles.

Aone says, “Karasuno, as well,” and Futakuchi huffs.

“Aone’s short friend has been texting him about it all week. If they get that money instead, I’m gonna be a little pissed.”

“Exactly. Which is why we need to give it our best!” Moniwa smiles in satisfaction. The team is looking more motivated now, and he considers this a job well done.

Kamasaki exhales noisily. “Okay, fine. Nametsu’s right. We’ll fix up one of the older prototypes and show that off to the media.”

Moniwa nods quickly. "I'm sure the robots will impress them a lot!"

"Not if it blows up in their faces," says Futakuchi. Kamasaki turns and crosses his arms.

"Our robots do not _blow up_!"

Futakuchi blinks, his eyes wide. "So that smoke alarm I heard the other day was just my imagination?"

"Aone!" At Moniwa's cry, Aone rises to push them both back into their seats.

Futakuchi pulls Aone's hand away from his face with a grimace. "At least they have robots to show off. What are we going to do, point at all our spreadsheets about coral behaviour? Nobody gives grants for spreadsheets."

"Not for your spreadsheets, at least," Onagawa says. "They might for mine."

Futakuchi stabs an accusing pair of chopsticks at him. "Pantalons, your spreadsheets make sense only to you."

"That's how you know they're genius."

Moniwa clears his throat. "Anyway, I know it’s late notice, but let’s do our best to prepare something for Friday, okay? I know everyone here is working on something interesting and unique, so let's bring those out. We'll show them the great scientific discoveries and developments of Date Tech!"

 

 

(Moniwa likes to think he kept a pretty cool head during that announcement. There’s a lot of work in store for them, but he trusts in his team. What he’s looking forward to less is the mountain of paperwork in store for him, because no event happens without a truck load of forms and hastily arranged phone calls, especially not an event arranged with such late notice. Especially not one on the seafloor, amongst one of the most precious natural wonders in the world, with miles and miles of potential hazards and environmental concerns. He slips away from dinner as soon as he’s finished eating, promising to make up for his share of cleaning duty next week. Sasaya frowns, tells him not work too hard. Moniwa, brewing a cup of coffee at 7pm at night, can only half shrug.) 

 

* * *

 

The robotics engineering team has its own lab, separate to the one shared by the rest of their oceanography team. Their primary focus is on developing and iterating autonomous underwater robots which can reduce the risks in collecting data and making measurements in even the darkest depths of the ocean. Moniwa is deeply appreciative of the work they do; their methods, on the other hand, err towards chaotic more often than is comforting.

Something crashes as Moniwa steps inside, early on Monday morning while he’s running on maybe three hours of sleep; his first instinct is to duck and fling his hands over his head with a yelp.

Nothing flies towards him. A voice – Nametsu’s – calls out a loud “ _sorry!_ ” as he straightens his back, and continues striding in with as much nonchalance as he can project.

Nametsu spins around in her chair with – Moniwa counts – at least three different pens and a tiny screwdriver tucked between her fingers. “Sorry about that! Kogane-kun is experimenting with some new theories about structural integrity.”

“It’s his turn to clean the supply room,” Obara translates. “We have a betting pool going for how many times he tips over a stack of boxes.” He’s frowning at his computer screen. “Mai, does this output look right to you?”

“My bet’s on over ten times, because Kamasaki-san was the last one to organise that room,” Nametsu tells Moniwa, before taking off in her chair, rolling neatly to Obara’s computer just as Koganegawa appears.

True to Obara’s words, he’s covered in dust and a fair amount of tiny screws. “Moniwa-senpai! Are you here to see what I’ve been working on?”

“No,” Moniwa says, and hurries to add, “but maybe later today? I need to speak with Kamasaki first.”

Koganegawa perks up. “Okay, I’ll hold you to it!”

He looks so excited that Moniwa has to resist the urge to pat him on the head like he’s an enthusiastic puppy. He directs Moniwa to Kamasaki’s corner of the lab before wandering back in the direction of the supply room, whistling off-key.

Kamasaki’s workspace is a mess of organised chaos that makes sense only to him, and only on good days. He’s listening to something that pounds through his headphones when Moniwa approaches.

Moniwa has to move a stack of books and gingerly shift something with a lot of wires attached to it – it’s being used as a paperweight for a pile of printouts – to clear a chair to sit down on, by which point Kamasaki has taken off his headphones and turned to face him.

“Okay, Your Honour,” he drawls. “Lay it on me. What’s my sentence?”

Moniwa rolls his eyes and kicks Kamasaki’s chair, causing him to curse as he goes spinning. “You’re hereby sentenced to one whole day of having people ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ at your robots. Aren’t you always complaining that no one here appreciates them enough?”

“Doesn’t mean I want a whole bunch of strangers stomping around in here and getting their grubby fingers all over our stuff,” Kamasaki grumbles. “You remember the last time.”

“I’ve seen both Nametsu and Obara with their scariest smiles. Put them on guard duty and you won’t have a problem at all,” Moniwa says.

Kamasaki shudders. “I still have nightmares from the time I accidentally pulled the plug on Obara’s computer while his code was compiling.”

They both share a moment of silence.

“Alright, okay, let’s figure this shit out,” Kamasaki says after the moment passes, and Moniwa pulls out his tablet, pleased.

They spend the next hour ironing out the plan for the robotics team’s presentation for the open day. Once Kamasaki gets going, he starts firing off ideas so rapidly that Moniwa has to scramble to keep track. The suggestions get increasingly - and alarmingly - outrageous as he continues, until Moniwa has to start immediately vetoing ideas which would be in direct breach of health and safety, or would far exceed their capabilities. It never phases Kamasaki, though; he just grumbles for a second, if that, before moving onto the next.

(It’s a very Kamasaki thing, Moniwa thinks. He was much the same in university, lobbing wild ideas into the open just to see what would stick. They were all a little like that, really. Moniwa has memories of endless coffee-fuelled nights huddled in the corner of the library, tossing thesis ideas back and forth until they were kicked out at closing time.)

Things start taking shape. Nametsu volunteers to run the morning tours while Kamasaki takes the afternoon ones. Koganegawa is brimming with excitement for the chance to show off his project (the specifics of it flies over Moniwa’s head, but he gets a discreet nod from Obara, so it should probably be okay). Obara shows him the progress of their reconstructed prototype, dark smudges under both his and Nametsu’s eyes, and Moniwa could just about hug them all.

 

* * *

 

Fukiage has one of his neutral expressions on when he swipes the lab door open for Moniwa. Moniwa squints at him. It's already hard trying to get a read on Fukiage on a normal day, and it's suspicious when he's a complete blank slate. Behind him, Sakunami jumps up from his computer, clicking away from what looks like a LINE chat window.

Before Moniwa can question what has them all so jumpy – they’re responsible adults, and Moniwa trusts them all to manage their time however they see fit, so no one would be getting in trouble for using LINE during work hours – Sakunami greets him by dipping into a bow so sharp that his lab coat's collar slips over his head. “Good morning, Moniwa-senpai!”

Moniwa clucks his tongue. "I told you you don’t have to bow every time you see me, Sakunami-kun! And you have to remind me to order a lab coat that fits you," he says in his sternest voice. "Your hands barely reach past the sleeves. Isn't that dangerous?"

“It’s no big deal,” Sakunami says, like he has every other time Moniwa tells him this, but Fukiage says, "We don't exactly work with anything that dangerous," at the same time so all Moniwa can do is sigh.

"Where's Onagawa?"

"Playing with the fish," Fukiage says.

Moniwa raises an eyebrow.

"Observing the fish?" Sakunami says, sounding uncertain. "He said he would be back within an hour."

"How long ago did he say this?"

Both of them look at their watches. "Maybe an hour and a half ago," Sakunami admits.

The door beeps behind them and Onagawa strolls in at his usual languid pace, his hair flatter than normal from being wet. "Moniwa-san! Where have you been? I've been waiting for ages."

Moniwa pinches the space between his eyebrows. "I don't remember agreeing to meet you out in the ocean, Onagawa."

"Really? I thought we were going to talk about the fish."

"We were going to talk about the fish _inside_ ," Moniwa says. "Where we can speak! Using words! Not hand signals!"

Onagawa blinks. "That does make sense," he says, and Moniwa sighs, again. It is, most of the time, hard to tell whether Onagawa is joking or not, and it’s usually easier not to dwell on it.

To Moniwa’s surprise – and delight – Onagawa has already created an outline of his presentation. He flicks through the outline on his tablet as he explains, waving for Sakunami or Fukiage to jump in as necessary, and even pulls up a map of the route he plans to take the visitors on for the free swimming portion of the tour, the final leg before the visitors returned to the surface.

“We can split the groups up into advanced and beginner swimmers,” he explains. “I asked Sasaya-san, and he agreed to lead the advanced group with me along this route here.” He slides the stylus along the map, tracing a path towards one of the nearby reefs. “Beginner swimmers will stay with Fukiage and Sakunami at the local reef.”

Moniwa tugs at the hair on the back of his head, a habit he’s never quite managed to shake. “Okay, but… why split them up? Why don’t we keep all the visitors together at the local reef?”

Onagawa shrugs. “Yeah, but my clownfish won’t be there. They’ve got a nest happening and I want to keep an eye on it.” Onagawa, Moniwa recalls, has been observing a particular family of clownfish for the past few months, and cooing about them for just as long. Futakuchi has tried to bribe him to shut up about it more than once, and failed. No wonder Onagawa was so eager to volunteer.

“As long as it doesn’t interfere with the tour,” Moniwa allows, and gets a thumbs up in response.

"By the way," Onagawa says suddenly, as they’re winding up a short while later. "When does the last tour group leave?"

Moniwa flips open his tablet again, pulling up the schedule that Oiwake had emailed him. "The last group is scheduled to leave just before it gets dark on the surface. We don't have any overnight stays this year." He has to hold back another sigh as he thinks back to the conversation with Oiwake. "Apparently nobody wants to do the decompression time to stay more than an hour."

Decompression sickness is no joking matter – even the underwater miracle that was the Date Tech seafloor labs couldn't get around this aspect of human physiology. Being underwater at this depth for an extended period of time saturates their veins with gas. Moving from the extreme pressure of the seafloor to the surface without letting the gas dissipate properly was potentially fatal.

Multiple hours of slow and steady decompression were necessary for an extended stay down on the ocean floor. If any of their team wanted to make a trip to the surface, even for a quick visit, it would take almost a day's worth of sitting around in a special chamber, easing slowly back to surface-level pressure, before they could go anywhere.

Onagawa twirls his stylus pen around in his fingers. “So we’re all free pretty early. Cool.”

“Yeah,” Moniwa says. “You can do whatever you want once they leave.”

Onagawa points the stylus at him. “What are you gonna do, boss? Got plans?”

“Hah! Nope. I’ll collapse into bed, probably.” He yawns. “I’ve been on the phone with Oiwake-san and replying to emails non-stop for the past few days. Normally the public relations team handles it, but this last minute reschedule means I have to step in and personally deal with a lot of it.” Moniwa shudders. “You won’t believe how much paperwork is needed to get almost fifty people down to the bottom of the ocean. And no one reads my emails properly! They keep asking questions I’ve already answered!” Moniwa buries his face in his hands and groans. “It’s been half an hour since I’ve checked my emails. Every time my pocket vibrates, I start sweating. I’m worried I’m conditioning myself in a really, really gross way.”

He’s babbling. He hasn’t been able to touch his own research at all. He probably won’t get a chance to until after this whole ordeal is over.

“You need a break,” Onagawa says in a sage voice, flipping the stylus back around to resume its twirl. “Go hang out with the coral for a bit. Feel the sand between your toes. Get some fresh air. Or fresh bubbles.”

There are only a few windows in this portion of the lab — small portholes that provide a limited glimpse into the vast expanse of the ocean. Moniwa’s had to cut back on his ocean time since this started.

“Seriously. You look like you could stress-clean the entire facility.” Onagawa has unlocked his tablet again and is typing something on it with lightning fast taps of his stylus. “By yourself. Again.”

“It happened once!” Moniwa exclaims. “And it wasn’t very stress-relieving at all, so I’m never doing that again. And I don’t have time for a swim now. I need to call Oiwake-san again, then go through my emails, and then talk to the management crew, and my coffee this morning burned, and–”

“– and you look like you might fall over any second.” Onagawa finishes off whatever he was typing with a flourish and puts the tablet down.

Moniwa sighs. “Probably. I’ll handle it.”

The look Onagawa gives him is suitably unimpressed.

 

* * *

 

Aside from being the captain and head scientist of the most motley, mixed-disciplines crew of scientists and academics this side of the seafloor (a dubious honour shared only, perhaps, by Sawamura of the Karasuno labs), Moniwa’s specialty is as an ocean geologist. He is immersed in the study of oceanic systems, of the seafloor and its volcanoes and mountains fathoms below the surface, of examining the barest traces of microfossils to weave together an image of a very different ocean floor, millions of years ago.

At the end of all things, Moniwa knows, the ocean will still remain, a stable foundation from beginning to end – though it changes, as all things do. The earth’s tectonic plates slide, crushing and crashing, the ocean’s crust melting back into the earth, and rising again; the underwater seascape is vast, and ever-moving.

It’s a continental journey that began hundreds of millions of years ago; a journey still in progress. The earth drifts, and comes together, and drifts again. Change, no matter how miniscule, is never something to overlook.

When Moniwa returns to his desk after a day of pacing around and trying not to pull all his hair out at phone calls, he finds a blinking notification on his computer on the LINE desktop app. It’s a new message from Futakuchi, who is – he does a quick sweep of the lab – probably outside on a swim with Aone. He hopes it’s not a link to another one of those videos about tiny food, because Moniwa would have to, regrettably, ignore it until after he gets his work done.

(It’s unusual for Moniwa to receive only a single message from Futakuchi though; usually, he likes to send his messages in a string of broken up texts which, in Moniwa’s opinion, don’t really need to be split up at all.)

He clicks open the tab. It’s not a link to a video.

It’s a link to a shared online document, the same kind they usually use when they’re collaborating on reports.

It opens up a document titled, simply, “Open day presentations – collated”. It’s filled with an outline of the planned presentations and from Futakuchi, Aone and Sasaya, with extra notes about any additional considerations required. Onagawa and Kamasaki’s plans have also been included; they must have emailed them through after their respective meetings with Moniwa, because they’re updated with their latest discussions.

All the extra notes are written in Futakuchi’s distinct, concise tone; informative, without being overly verbose.

Moniwa has been meaning to compile this himself. He hasn’t had the time. He sits back, blinks.

He clicks back to the chat window. The message that came with the document link just includes a winking kaomoji, as if it was no big deal. As if Futakuchi hadn’t eased the burden on Moniwa’s shoulders by taking on the work of compiling all this information, without even being asked.

Moniwa sends a simple message in reply to say thanks. Futakuchi, being Futakuchi, probably wouldn’t acknowledge it, but Moniwa will tell him in person later.

Futakuchi is, most of the time, the most troublesome of his juniors, with his biting wit and tendency to draw Aone into his provocations of others. He’s a walking, talking, sirens-blaring, self-made hazard at conferences, especially the global ones. He’s no longer allowed to manage their lab’s official twitter, for the sake of their public image.

With all of that, it’s easy to overlook the brilliant mind that brought Futakuchi to this lab in the first place, and the potential for it to continue to grow.

Moniwa knows a thing or two about stable foundations.

 

 

(“I had time,” Futakuchi says with a shrug when Moniwa finds him later. “I figured it was better than seeing you burst a blood vessel, or something like that.” His eyes light up. “That would be funny though! Let me know if you start feeling pain or lightheadedness.”

Moniwa is well-versed in the art of seeing through Futakuchi Kenji’s brand of bluster. “You did a good job,” he tells him. “I’m really grateful.”

Futakuchi tosses his head, but not before Moniwa sees his ears go red. “Don’t actually get an aneurysm though. You know we’re keeping a tally of how many coffee cups you’re going through in a day, right? I think it’s scaring the kids.”

“What,” says Moniwa.

“Keep going though. I’ve got a lot of money riding on how many you’ll get through by open day.” Futakuchi pats him on the shoulder, once, and darts back to his desk.) 

 

* * *

 

When Moniwa is manhandled – actually physically manhandled, it’s a little embarrassing – away from his desk later that day by his two best friends, he’s not as surprised as he could have been.

“Did Onagawa put you up to this?” Moniwa asks as he’s being dragged backwards through his lab, each arm hooked over one of Kamasaki’s and Sasaya’s. He remembers Onagawa’s casual probing questions while typing away at his tablet. Futakuchi is shaking with laughter over by his microscope, and Aone has an apologetic look on his face.

Moniwa isn’t fooled. He heard Aone get up to let the two of them inside.

Kamasaki ruffles his hair so vigorously that it hurts. “Are you saying we need our junior to tell us when to kick your ass into gear?”

“He did ask us, though,” Sasaya points out.

“That’s not the point!”

“True,” agrees Sasaya. “The point is your health. What are we supposed to do if our captain perishes of hunger and fatigue in the battlefield? Who else would nag us all about wearing clean socks, and properly labelling and colour coding all of our test tubes?”

Moniwa tries to give them a pleading look as they pull him down the hallway. It’s difficult when he has to tip his head almost upside down just to look at them properly. “I have _emails_. Too many emails.”

He gets another hair ruffle, this one rougher than the last. “When’s the last time you ate, huh?”

Moniwa pauses for a moment too long. “Um.”

“Look, if it were any of us in your shoes, you would be hounding us about the exact same thing.” Sasaya is, as always, annoyingly reasonable. “Take an hour.”

“30 minutes.”

“45.”

“35.”

“50,” interjects Kamasaki.

Moniwa tries to hide a grin. “That’s not how bargaining works, Kamachi. You’re supposed to go lower to match me.”

“Shut up! It is now, and you’re taking a 50 minute break. Also, I’m confiscating your phone!” Kamasaki holds up his free hand and brandishes Moniwa’s phone, which – when did he get that? “No emails, no messages – nothing!”

“We also made you food.” Moniwa makes a strangled noise and Sasaya corrects himself. “ _I_ made you food. Kamasaki watched.” Kamasaki scoffs.

“And we’re going to watch you eat every single bite of it,” Sasaya finishes as they enter the mess room. Moniwa’s arms are starting to ache from being pulled, and he’s glad when they finally let him stand on his own.

“Fine, but only 50 minutes.”

True to Sasaya’s words, a covered bowl sits on the table, emanating a delicious scent when Sasaya removes the plate covering it. Moniwa’s stomach rumbles.

Kamasaki heaves himself onto the table, kicking a chair out and looking at him meaningfully until he takes the seat. Sasaya settles onto a chair next to him, slouching in his seat and using Moniwa’s lap to prop his legs up and pin him down, looking as if he’s not planning to move for a very long time. Moniwa pulls a face. “Is that really necessary?”

Sasaya makes a noncommittal noise. He pulls out a rubix cube and begins spinning the squares with a practised ease. Meanwhile, Kamasaki hooks his legs over the back of another chair, and unlocks Moniwa’s phone.

Familiar, cheery music plays and Moniwa hears the telltale sound of Kamasaki refilling his bowls of cat food on Neko Atsume. Kamasaki clicks his tongue. “You haven’t even been looking after your cats, have you.”

Sasaya snorts, not even looking at his rubix cube as his hands fly, spinning the colours in a pattern discernible only to him. “That’s disappointing, Moniwa. Think about how many times you’ve missed out on seeing Peaches this week.”

“I already got her bendy straw, so it’s fine,” Moniwa says, petulantly. Kamasaki clicks his tongue again.

Moniwa fills his stomach to the familiar sound of Sasaya’s spinning cube and Kamasaki’s off-key whistling as he takes a million photos of Moniwa’s cats. Green light bathes the room through the glass wall, disrupted occasionally by the dark shapes of passing fish that flicker across, a soothing play of shadows. A manta ray glides past, large fins undulating and rippling in the water like wings. Aside from the ocean view, it feels a little like they’re all back in university.

(He ends up taking an hour instead. Kamasaki smirks a little while tossing his phone back, which Moniwa fumbles and almost drops, ruffling his hair one more time, and Sasaya slaps him on the back. Moniwa, because he’s in a good mood and probably a little thankful, lets them do it.)

 

* * *

 

Late on Wednesday evening, when the words on Moniwa's screen start blurring every time he blinks, he finally pulls himself out of his seat and stretches. He winces at the series of loud cricks when he straightens his back, and again when an ache at the top of his spine makes itself known.

Around him, the lab's lights have been turned to their lowest setting, a muted white which hums even when he closes his eyes. He's the last one in the lab – he remembers Aone clapping a hand to his shoulder on his way out, possibly an hour ago, and someone – likely Sasaya, though it could also have been Sakunami – leaving a fresh mug of coffee at his elbow at some point.

Moniwa peers inside the mug. He remembers taking one sip, maybe two. It doesn't look very appetising right now. With a grimace, he cleans out the mug and dries it, returning it to Sakunami's table after recognising the cute Mickey Mouse design on it.

The clock reads 2:33am by the time he's done. Sleep doesn't feel like a viable option right now; if he returned to his bunk, he would only be staring at the dark ceiling for another few hours while Kamasaki, a restless sleeper, tossed and turned in the bunk below.

He spends some time wandering the hallways, which are still flooded with the strong artificial lighting that illuminates most of the facility, erasing any last vestiges of sleep from his mind. The low buzz of the lights makes Moniwa's head hurt.

Eventually, he makes his way to the wet porch. The airtight room sits at the front of the facility and serves as the threshold between the ocean and the lab. Moniwa is immediately struck by the humidity as he steps through the entry hatch. It reminds him of that moment of stepping through the doorway into the local indoor pool when he was a kid – a wash of warm, damp air, the slap of his bare feet against the damp ground, and the glimmer of the water, undisturbed at night.

The difference is that he's now taller, hopefully wiser – and when he inhales, his nose tingles with sea salt rather than chlorine.

Unlike the rest of the facility, the wet porch is lit only by dim lights that reflect gently off the surface of the moon pool – a still body of water that connects directly to the open ocean, and the port of entry for anyone exiting or entering the lab. Moniwa has hauled himself out of this pool countless times, palms braced against the metal sides, before stripping off his scuba gear to take a blistering hot shower after the chill of the ocean.

Moniwa blinks. At the side of the moon pool sits Nametsu, her feet dangling over the edge and into the water below. She's engrossed in her tablet, a specially designed variant which allows it to be used underwater and in humid conditions such as these. A long cable extends from the tablet and connects to a robot the size of a small dog but which looks a little like a crab, with its legs curled up where it rests next to her.

It's only when Moniwa takes a seat next to her, the robot between them, that she looks up and notices his presence.

"Can't sleep?" He tests the water with one toe; the cold of it makes him jolt, even though he was expecting it. He dips both feet in anyway.

"Not exactly." Nametsu pats the robot on what Moniwa assumes is the head. "We've been so busy with the open day preparations that I haven't had any time to focus on my own projects. I had an idea earlier today to improve Ami-chan's AI, but this is the first chance I've had to test it out." She turns the screen of the tablet towards him, showing off its lines of code, which Moniwa is only able to vaguely comprehend – he has a functional understanding of programming, but never specialised in it.

The best response, Moniwa has long learned, is to hum in an intrigued tone.

Nametsu beams. "I want her to be as autonomous as possible while she's crawling around the seafloor." She withdraws the tablet, fingers continuing to fly across the screen. "There are so many things I want to try changing about her structure, but there's just no time for that now."

Moniwa nods. "Yeah, I know how that feels. I haven't even had time to run my last set of data through analysis properly. I almost miss looking at all those numbers."

That gets a laugh from Nametsu. "You won't be saying that in a few days, Moniwa-san."

"Maybe." Moniwa rubs his eyes. He still doesn't feel tired. He kicks his feet, watching the water lap at his skin.

When he looks up, he finds Nametsu watching him, a frown on her face. "What is it?" he asks, a little self-conscious.

"Nothing, you just. You look stressed." She drums her fingers, and puts the tablet aside. "Do you want to go for a swim?"

Moniwa stares at her. "It's 3am, Nametsu."

"Are you planning to sleep anytime soon?" she shoots back, and Moniwa can't really argue against that. "Plus, you look like you need the exercise. Every aquanaut needs their dose of water, you know?"

Moniwa can't deny that he misses being in the water. It feels like he hasn’t stretched his legs for far too long. And, with two of them, they would be able to look out for each other, as long as they didn't swim too far.

Nametsu flashes him a thumbs up, and they scramble to change into their wet gear.

Some minutes later, mouthpiece firmly in place and diving mask slotted neatly over his face, Moniwa submerges in the water for the first time all week.

The initial plunge is, in many ways, Moniwa’s favourite. Even though it’s completely unnecessary with the goggles, he always closes his eyes as he goes under, if purely for the sensation of opening his eyes beneath to see nothing but a wide, dizzying expanse of blue and the rush of bubbles flowing past him as he exhales. A comforting blanket of silence settles over him, the peace broken only by the sound of his own bubbles trickling past his ears.

His feet, clad in swimming flippers, settle onto the sand of the ocean floor. Nametsu touches down beside him a second later. If he looks up, he would be able to see the ripples on the surface of the moon pool as the water settles back into place. Instead, he gazes at his feet, watching the sand slide and trickle around the weight of his flippers.

They half-hop, half-swim along the sand, out from beneath the structure of the lab and into the open. This late at night, the spotlights around the reef are turned down so as to not disrupt the local marine life. They have lights attached to their diving masks, but Moniwa leaves his off; he can see well enough in the low light. He hovers in the water, feeling weightless, gazing out at the murky waters and shelves of coral that stretch as far as the eye can see, before turning to look back at the lab.

The hull of the Date Tech Institute for Aquatic Research looms in the low light, a silent giant on the seafloor. Far from a pristine structure, it's old, overgrown, and glorious. Some light bleeds out from the windows of the lab, illuminating the abundance of life that, even in the early hours of the morning, continue to exist, and live.

Colonies of coral have, over the many years that the facility has been operational, grown from the the surface of the lab itself; one of the many artificial reefs that populate the oceans of Japan. It’s no longer a foreign structure, but a seamless part of the natural seascape. Bushes of cauliflower coral dot the hull in hues of pink, and tiny, colourful damselfish flit above the waving tentacles of the anemone, seeking plankton to feed on.

He's spent many hours in the past studying these coral, assisting Aone and Futakuchi in their research by collecting samples, and admiring the way they found a home amongst the ageing metal plates.The coral flourishes in a variety of shapes and sizes, from tiny, soft polyps to larger, stony coral with endless branches. It's a small explosion of colour, saturated with the rich blues of the seawater.

Nametsu gestures for his attention, and Moniwa kicks off from the sand to join her in a slow lap around the perimeter of the lab.

The water cuts smoothly beneath his palms as he strokes through the water. His legs, kicking with force, push against the resistance of the water, churning bubbles in his wake. He hasn't realised how limp his legs had been, with only the drudgery of walking and sitting and pacing, until now. Now, they pump in strong butterfly kicks as he puts on a burst of speed, slicing through the water to dip lower, just for the thrill of the descent. Nametsu follows, above.

In the water, Moniwa feels weightless, buoyant, like he could swim out into the deep without a care in the world.

 

 

(Moniwa’s grandmother used to tell him stories about the pearl divers of old, who would dive with nothing but a cloth wrapped around their hair and another around their loins.

 _They didn’t have anything special to help them breathe,_ she used to say to him. _No fancy gas tanks or masks. They would just hold their breath and dive to search for oysters._

Moniwa, who at the age of seven, had just learnt to hold his breath underwater, but not for very long, was impressed. _What if they got lost?_ he had asked, eyes wide.

 _They have a rope tied around their waist,_ she said, _attached to a basket floating on the surface. This rope was their lifeline, guiding them home._

The stories fascinated him endlessly, these mortal mermaids plunging into the waves over and over again, seeking the ocean’s treasures.

The pearl divers could hold their breath for up to two minutes at a time, before they returned to the air above. Moniwa counts the seconds in his head.

He loses count when he's distracted by a large parrotfish, iridescent scales gleaming as it brushes past him, and he has to exhale, in a flurry of bubbles that obscure his vision for a brief moment. When it clears, he sees the inside of the lab, the mess room empty and quiet through the glass wall.

He inhales. Unlike the pearl divers, he can afford to take a breath, even while still submerged.

The surface is much further away for him; his lifeline guides him elsewhere, perhaps.)

 

* * *

 

Friday dawns in hues of oranges and reds that filter through the water and through the porthole in Moniwa and Kamasaki’s shared room. Moniwa’s been staring at the dim outlines of the ceiling’s metal panels for what feels like the past two hours. There are flutters in his stomach, but he pulls himself out of bed, slaps his cheeks with his palms – “what the fuck, Moniwa,” comes the sleepy groan from below – and faces the day.

The visitors are scheduled to come down in small groups, each group spending less than an hour touring the labs and the reefs before returning to the surface. The groups are supervised on the descent and ascent by guides from a local recreational diving company which the labs are on friendly terms with.

Sasaya gets the role of swimming out to greet the visitors, welcoming them to the reef and supervising their entrance through the moon pool. The supervising guide, Kuroo Tetsurou, is an old friend and an experienced diver, an enthusiast of the ocean if not a researcher himself. He waves at Moniwa, introducing him to the visitors with an easy casualness that Moniwa has always envied.

Kuroo has hauled a cylindrical, pressurised metal container from the surface with him, which Sasaya helps him bring out of the moon pool, twisting the locking mechanisms to safely remove the lid. They hand out fresh towels and bundles of clothes to the visitors, all kept dry by the pressurised interior of the container.

Moniwa, hands clasped behind his back to keep them from jittering, waits for them to all towel off and change into their dry clothes before beginning his welcome speech.

Once he's taken the visitors through the open areas of the lab and handed them off to the robotics lab (where Nametsu and her infectious brightness greets them, and Obara smiles sunnily while standing defensively in front of the more sensitive machinery), Moniwa ducks back into his own lab for a breather.

He finds Kuroo and Futakuchi getting along, while Aone watches with an expression that, while not much different to his usual, nevertheless expresses something akin to horror.

Moniwa sympathises; both Kuroo and Futakuchi share a knack for prodding at the sensitive spots of people around them, for better or worse (usually worse, when it came to Futakuchi). Putting them together was, arguably, destructive.

Sakunami, the living embodiment of all that is good in this world, offers Moniwa a cup of steaming coffee. He sips it as he watches Kuroo – draped backwards in Moniwa's chair – catch sight of Onagawa and, with a gleeful cry of "Pantalons!", wheels towards him to ask him about his research. Onagawa, always eager to show off his fish to anyone even remotely interested, whips out his camera.

Futakuchi wanders over, hands behind his head and a pleased expression on his face. "That guy kind of pisses me off a bit."

Moniwa eyes him. "Why are you happy about that?"

"He seems fun," says Futakuchi in an alarmingly cheery tone. "He should visit more often."

Kuroo has coaxed Sakunami into talking about his recent observations on the local boxfish, and Fukiage is leaning back and flipping his pen at his desk in a way that shows he's listening in. As always, Kuroo has a way of slipping in amongst new people, comfortable and adaptable.

He spins around in a lazy circle when he sees Moniwa watching him, a grin stretching across his face. "Yo, Moniwa." He inclines his head. "I like what you've done with the place."

He can't help but puff up in pride, a little. "We have a good team," he says, and means it.

 

* * *

 

The open day, surprisingly, continues on without a hitch.

Aside from his opening speech to each group of visitors, Moniwa gets to take a background role. He watches Aone present coral samples as Futakuchi expounds on the breadth of their discoveries about thriving coral behaviour, his most charming smile drawing in their audience. Onagawa, Sakunami and Fukiage have prepared a clean and orderly presentation that briefs the visitors on the local marine life, before Sasaya joins them on the swim around the reefs, the final leg of the tour.

"Give me a call if you ever need a photographer," Kuroo tells Moniwa as he's getting ready to enter the moon pool to leave with the first batch of visitors. "Or any publicity videos. I'm handy with a camera. I've got some friends who are even better."

"Thank you," Moniwa replies, sincerely.

Kuroo nudges him with an elbow. "Take care of yourself. Tell Pantalons to show me his clownfish, next time."

 

 

(One of the visiting groups consists largely of members of Tokai University's own underwater robotics lab, who ask enough questions of Kamasaki that Moniwa has to wave frantically from the back of the room to keep the tour moving along. He notices a few of them take especial interest in Nametsu's crab-dog-robot, and she straightens her shoulders with pride when they express interest in following its development.

The opportunity to speak to like-minded individuals gets all the members of the robotics lab visibly fired up for the rest of the day. Koganegawa gets to talk, with a lot of energy and excited thrumming, in detail about his work. Moniwa can tell they're all enjoying themselves.

It goes well. It continues to go well.) 

 

* * *

 

After the last group has shaken Moniwa's hand, thanked him for the visit, and headed off for the wet porch, Moniwa lets himself collapse into his chair, whirling in a few circles from the momentum. He closes his eyes, drapes a hand over them to block out the light, and exhales, deeply.

He's the only one in the lab; the swimming tour would wrap up shortly, and then everyone else would probably be getting food, or collapsed in the bean bags in the mess room. Moniwa thinks longingly of the soft material, and resolves to drag himself there. As soon as he can gather the energy.

Something shuffles, quietly. Focused on inhaling and exhaling in long, measured breaths, Moniwa misses it.

A firm hand lands on his shoulder, gripping tightly. Moniwa jerks upright with a yell, but the hand pins him to his seat. Someone throws a length of cloth across his eyes, blocking his vision and tying it tightly behind his head. The hand on his shoulder tightens, and pulls him to his feet, not ungently.

Moniwa's heart races. Is he being kidnapped? He didn't have enough money to pay a ransom – he's a scientist, not a lawyer. But, wait – they're literally on the bottom of the ocean. Did one of the visitors manage to stay behind?

No, Sasaya and Onagawa oversaw the visitors' departure. They wouldn't have missed anyone. The only ones here were him and his team.

Was this a team bonding exercise? Onagawa has been watching a lot of variety shows lately. Moniwa gulps. He wants to go back to the kidnapping.

The mysterious kidnappers push him along, forcing him to walk. There are two sets of footsteps; they stop in front of what Moniwa assumes is the entrance of the lab, and one of them mutters a hastily bitten off curse before managing to activate the doors. Futakuchi?

And the hand still resting on his shoulder – it must be Aone.

Moniwa groans. "Aone, did you let Futakuchi drag you into his pranks again?"

He hears an indignant huff. Definitely Futakuchi. Moniwa should have known.

They lead him down some number of hallways, making a series of turns which, Moniwa guesses, are supposed to disorient him but really just make him tired. Moniwa makes sure to tell them, in the slightly rambly way he gets when he's exhausted and sleep-deprived, exactly how grievous he finds this prank. Interestingly enough, neither of them respond – not even Futakuchi, who has difficulty _not_ responding to words thrown in his direction.

He ponders, briefly, that this is not the first time he's been dragged somewhere against his will this week.

Eventually, they come to a halt, and Moniwa hears the telltale beeping of a set of doors sliding open. The quality of light that barely filters in through the blindfold changes – Moniwa recognises the light of the ocean when he sees it. They’re in the mess room, with its wall of thick, sturdy glass and the ever-present ocean.

"Honestly, you two," he says in exasperation. "All this to get me to the mess room? I was on my way here already."

"Moniwa-san." Futakuchi speaks up for the first time. "With all due respect, please be quiet."

Someone says, somewhere in front of him, in a sharp whisper, "One, two–"

"Surprise!" Koganegawa?

Futakuchi groans, behind him. "Wait for the three, Koganegawa!"

"Yes, got it!"

"Do you really," mutters Futakuchi. The blindfold is untied.

Moniwa blinks rapidly, eyes adjusting to the light.

"Let's do that again," says Sasaya, standing at the front of the group. He's holding something cone-shaped in his hands. "One, two, three!"

"Surprise!" The entire team – Moniwa's entire, ragtag team – chorus in unison, and there's a series of pops as they all set off their party poppers. Confetti rains down on Moniwa. He shuts his mouth before any can flutter into it.

The mess room has been decked out in an odd assortment of party decorations, by a group of people who have an odd idea of what constitutes as party decorations. Cutouts of cute, cartoon fish swim along the walls, alongside even cuter jellyfish and turtles. Streamers in various shades of green are taped along the bottom of the walls like seaweed. Someone has made an attempt at recreating a coral reef via multicoloured streamers in one corner. There's someone's hand drawn picture of a crab, and that same person's drawing of a robot, tucked in amongst the coral streamers.

The beanbags have been dragged from the edge into the centre of the room, in a cozy little circle. Aone leads him to the biggest one, nudging him until he drops down into it.

His eyes prickle a little at the corners. "What–"

"Happy surviving-administrative-hellhole day, Moniwa," says Sasaya. He's holding out a plate of – pancakes. In whipped cream, the words 'happy surviving-administrative-hellhole day' have been carefully piped out. A single lit candle flickers, wedged into the top pancake.

"Pancakes?"

"Pancake mix," corrects Nametsu. "We didn't have flour to make a cake, so we used the pancake mix instead."

Moniwa definitely feels tears dripping. "You guys," he says, voice cracking, taking the plate.

"You should make a wish, Moniwa-san,” Fukiage says. Moniwa sniffs. He blows out the candle.

There's cheering. Aone claps his back, and Moniwa has to struggle not to tip face first into the pancakes.

"When did– how–" Moniwa waves the plate of pancakes, flabbergasted. A piece of confetti has fluttered onto the plate. "Where did you even get the party poppers?"

"Kuroo-san," says Obara. "Onagawa called him yesterday and asked him to bring down a delivery with all the decorations."

The pot with all the towels. Moniwa never looked too closely at it. All he remembers is how tightly he was gripping his own wrist behind his back to calm the butterflies in his stomach.

"You can also thank me for this!" Kamasaki pulls a jar out from behind his back, and Moniwa's eyes widen.

"Is that–"

"Your favourite seaweed paste, because of your weird as hell taste." Kamasaki grins, taking the plate of pancakes from him and placing the jar in his hand instead. Moniwa turns it in his hand, taking in the familiar label of his favourite food.

"You've been working hard," Sasaya says. "Everyone could see that. We all thought we should say thanks."

Moniwa is speechless. He clutches the jar in his hands. "Thank you," he manages, looking at every one of them. His team.

Sasaya rubs his head. His hair is still damp. He probably rushed here as soon as the swimming tour finished. "We um. We didn't actually have any time to prepare proper food. There’s the pancakes, of course. Also cup noodles, if anyone's really hungry."

Futakuchi raises a hand. Now that Moniwa can actually look at him, he notices that he's got a bag slung over one shoulder. "I also brought snacks from the labs."

Moniwa, still clutching the jar, watches from his beanbag as Sasaya distributes pieces of pancakes on napkins, while Futakuchi rummages through the bag, calling out what he pulls out and tossing it to anyone who responds. He lobs an apple at Koganegawa, who fumbles it but manages to catch it with an outstretched foot. Obara whistles, impressed.

"There's a packet of sultanas," says Futakuchi. He squints at it. "I think there might be about seven in here. Anyone want it?"

Obara raises a hand. "Please."

Futakuchi tosses it to him, and Obara opens it with a satisfied expression.

The pancakes are fluffy, sweetened by the whipped cream. Moniwa savours the taste.

Now that they're all settled into beanbags or on the floor, Moniwa can see that they all look exhausted. Obara's already limited hair looks even more frazzled than usual. Kamasaki might actually have fallen asleep as soon as he sat down, his pancake uneaten in his hand. No one’s made a move for the kitchen and its supply of cup noodles, not even Onagawa, who practically lives off of it.

Aone offers Moniwa his box of chocolate mushroom biscuits. They crunch them together in silence for a few minutes.

"We did it," Moniwa says at last, testing the words, then louder: "We did it!"

"Of course we did." Futakuchi has produced a pack of sour gummies, and is chewing an obscene amount of them at once. "Did you actually have that little faith in us, Moniwa-san?"

Kamasaki stirs, as if summoned by Futakuchi's irreverent tone. "Don't talk to your seniors like that, brat," he says, through a yawn.

Futakuchi brings a hand to his mouth in mock shock. "Did you actually have that little faith in us, Moniwa-senpai?"

A peanut arcs through the air, nailing Futakuchi on the head. He yelps. Obara whistles, again.

Aone makes a small huffing noise. Nametsu grins. "I think he's laughing at you, Kenji-kun."

" _Aone_ ," Futakuchi says, in a tone that rings of his disbelief at this betrayal. Aone shrugs.

Moniwa, overcome with fondness, bursts into laughter. "We did well," he says, grinning so wide it hurts. "Every one of us. Thank you, all of you. We only had a few days, but we pulled through and gave those visitors the best of Date Tech. I'm proud to be captain of all of you."

Kamasaki and Sasaya exchange glances. "Moniwa," Sasaya starts.

"S-shush! I'm not done!" Moniwa scrubs at the tears leaking down his face.

He stands up, feeling like this is a standing-up type of speech.

"The Date Tech labs won't always be the same. Tomorrow, or next week, or next year – anyone of us might leave, because of a better opportunity, or better funding, or better beds – you get what I'm saying!" Somebody laughs, and Moniwa does too. "It's all part of being a scientist. And it doesn't matter. You are a fantastic team. You guys all have the potential to do so many great things. Wherever you go in search of your passion and your work, I hope you remember the great team that you were a part of here.”

He bows, hands clenched tightly at his side, a sharp dip of his waist, his eyes scrunched because his vision is getting blurry. “I will always be proud to have been your captain."

Someone else is crying. Several someone elses are crying.

"You big goof." Sasaya pulls him up and into a hug, joined not long after by Kamasaki, who sniffles loudly.

“Why do you sound like you’re about to pass on, geez,” Kamasaki says, his words muffled.

Koganegawa is wailing, babbling, "Moniwa-senpai, thank you! Thank you!" as he rubs at his eyes.

Futakuchi is an ugly crier. "Don't say 'you guys' like you're not part of it too," he gets out through gritted teeth.

Moniwa is touched.

"Alright, you lot!" Kamasaki yells. "Get in here! All of you!"

They all pile on. Koganegawa almost crushes Moniwa with how heavily he leans into the hug. Nametsu is laughing, squeezed in between Fukiage and Sakunami. Obara’s shoulder is damp because Futakuchi’s face has been squashed there from Onagawa leaping on all of them. Aone wraps his arms around them all as best as he can, the backbone and the support.

Someone's elbow is jabbing into Moniwa's armpit. He might be rubbing snot and tears into Sasaya's shirt. He's probably breathing in someone else's carbon dioxide. It’s a little gross.

(He doesn't care.)

**Author's Note:**

> Underwater laboratories are very much a real thing! Look up the Aquarius and Sealab underwater labs if you want a fascinating read.
> 
> Endless, copious thanks to Winny for being my writing buddy, cheer squad, and endless source of enthusiasm and encouragement; and to San for beta-ing this! <3
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment to let me know what you think - I'm also [on twitter](http://twitter.com/espurrkawa) for plenty of datekou yelling!


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